


fair's fair

by hanktalkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Puns, Banter, F/F, F/M, Frottage, Kissing, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Pegging, Pet Names, Team Talon (Overwatch), Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11942328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: strapon nonsense





	fair's fair

“Come now Gabriel, fair’s fair,” Widowmaker said, pressing a kiss along his shoulder. “I’ve never known you to go back on a bargain.”

“Yeah!” Sombra piped up from where she was lounging within his line of sight. “You’re not ‘ _pulling out’_ now, are you Gabe?”

Gabe could _feel_ Widow’s eye roll from all the way behind him. “If you are going to keep with your terrible sex puns, you could at least come up with something better,” she complained, and began to fiddle with the strapon once again.

That was the whole deal, one that Reaper was going to have hold up his end of tonight. Ever since the three of them had started their relationship, Widowmaker had been adverse to what Sombra lovingly called “the butt stuff.” It had taken a little gentle coaxing, but the sniper had eventually decided to give it a try. On one condition.

“If you really aren’t comfortable, you don’t have to go through with this,” Widowmaker said suddenly, in a rare moment of tenderness. She must be taking his silence as nervousness.

“Fuck that,” he said hotly. “You think I’m going to cave on this? I can handle anything you can, lady.”

A soft chuckle came from behind him, and he felt a kiss along his spine. He was kneeling right now, naked but not yet on all fours, and impatiently waiting while Widow got all of her affairs in order. It’s not like this old territory for her either. She was…well, the polite term was _vanilla_.

On cue, she made a noise of frustration. “ _Zut!_ How am I meant to get all these on at the same time?”

Reaper turned around to watch her adjust the leather straps unsuccessfully.

“Here,” Sombra offered, sliding off her mound of pillows. “Let me help. I’ve been a lesbian a lot longer than you.”

“You’re _not_ a lesbian,” Widow told her as she let Sombra’s hands whisk over her. “Unless you mean lesbian in the colloquial sense of ‘enjoys sex with women,’ in which case I have been one much longer than you.”

“You’re not _that_ old, _amiga_ ,” Sombra insisted, and finished sliding one of the buckles in place. Reaper admired her handiwork. Each strap hugged Widow’s body perfectly, the soft chocolaty brown accented against her lavender skin.

“I can’t believe you bought _that_ color dildo,” Reaper complained anyway.

“What?” Widow whined. “I like purple.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t match,” he pointed out. “It’s like a dark-y indigo purple, where you’re all lightish.”

“Well _excuse me_ if they don’t make _fleshtones_ for people with _purple skin_ ,” Widow snapped back.

Sombra couldn’t take more of that, and flopped backwards against the head of the bed. Her whole body twitched with laughter, and she put a hand over her forehead in pure delight. It was no mystery why Sombra stuck with them: she obviously thought they were the most entertaining things in the world.

Reaper waited until she had quieted down before he told her, “move. I’m going to need that headboard soon.”

“And miss the show?” She wiggled backwards until she was comfortable. “No thanks, I’m gunna get the best view right here. If you need support just grab the bar.” She gestured her hand upwards, towards the low ceiling of her loft bedroom.

“You told me that was for pull-ups,” Reaper said.

“Hah, yeah. And you _believed_ me,” she laughed to herself. “Fucking pull-ups above the bed—you are too much Gabe.”

Reaper grumbled something he knew she wouldn’t hear, and placed both hands firmly on the bar above him. It was stupidly unsurprising that Sombra had taken time to install sex furniture in her room, even when they’d only be here for a for a few months. The Siberian-based Talon garrison was small—economical even. The only windows in the room were slits just above ground level, letting in the bright white of the floodlights reflected from the arctic beyond.

“Now Gabriel?” Widow prompted him, tucking her chin over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Fucking shoot.”

Soon one long, bony finger was making its way inside him. Lube began to coat his insides while she worked, and she hummed something softly while she did. Reaper idly thought that if she were in any other profession, singing while concentrating might be a very endearing quality.

Reaper kept his grunts to a minimum. The sensation was strange, but damn them if they thought he was backing down on this. Besides, it’s not like it _hurt_ or anything, not when his own body liked to put him through hell on a daily basis. When your cells rip themselves apart at the most minor of inconveniences, physical pain can’t really compare. Still, every now and again he’d twitch at the foreign sensation against his pelvic floor.

“Why so jittery?” Sombra asked, sitting so she could get just the right angle on Reaper’s body. “Not like this is new, right? What with you and your old commander fucking so much even Carla from resource management knew…”

Reaper didn’t deny it, even if he didn’t totally believe Carla was a real person. “Yeah. But I wasn’t the one taking it.”

“Ooooh!” Sombra sat up in excitement. “There’s some juicy gossip.” She scooted closer. “Tell me more.”

“Nope, that’s all you get snippy,” he told her, knowing the best ways to get under her skin.

“Awww, you’re never any fun Gabe,” she whined on cue. “All I get out of you is scraps, never anything to take home and tell my friends.”

Reaper grinned. “Aw, I’m sorry. Am I _teasing_ you?”

Sombra stuck her tongue out at him.

“Not to ruin the every-so-entertaining banter,” Widow said, her voice betraying a bit of effort, “but how do I know when you’re ready?”

“Fucking, I don’t know,” Reaper shrugged. “About three fingers?”

Widow gave a little _mm_ of affirmation, then slid a third finger inside. Her other hand was placed on Reaper’s shoulder, steadying herself against his solid weight. As the last few minutes of preparation ticked by, Reaper closed his eyes and enjoyed the occasional whisper of breath against his skin.

When Widowmaker’s fingers withdrew, he cracked his eyes open to see the still-clothed Sombra lying before him. “You know, you could _do_ something besides just sit there.”

“Like what?” she grinned, putting her hands behind her head.

“Like get me hard?”

Her grinned widened, and Reaper half-thought she was going to tell him to do it himself. But then she rolled on to her stomach, propping herself up on one elbow and gently trailing her other hand along his limp member. His eyes closed all the way again, and he allowed himself a soft hum of pleasure. Faintly, he heard the sound of Widow coating the dildo in lube, and he tried to relax his insides in preparation.

Widow was at his ear again. “Ready, _mon amour_?”

He turned so he could give her a half-kiss, sloppily making his way into her mouth.

Sombra snorted. “I guess you could say he’s ‘ready for a more’.” She expertly dodged the pillow Widow threw at her.

Anticipating, Reaper braced himself against the support above him, concentrating on the hand gently stroking him. Another hand wrapped itself from behind, securing Widowmaker to him and lightly pinching his nipple. Then, ever so slowly, the tip of the dense rubber filled his loosened hole. He could see nothing but the inside of his eyelids, but he could imagine the thick purple intrusion as it entered him. Suddenly, he let out a hiss as it passed some invisible threshold, and Widow stilled inside him.

“ _Ça va_?” she prompted.

“Mmmhhmm,” he nodded. “Just go slower.”

She did, and he breathed in time. The fullness was neither good nor bad, but he guessed the good wouldn’t come until later. For now, he let the strapon all the way inside him, and distracted himself with his growing arousal.

“Gabe likey?” Sombra taunted, and he opened his eyes to glare down at her.

“Not yet, moron. She’s got to actually fuck me to get that.”

“Right,” Widow said, still slightly unsure. “I begin now?”

He nodded. “Yeah- ag! Jeez, go slow first.”

Widow clung to him with both arms, anchoring herself around his chest. She did as he said, beginning with slow, shallow thrusts into his slackened body. Once she found a rhythm, he could hear small gasps as the strapon sent the vibrations back into her. He smiled. The sound went straight to his groin, now reasonably hard thanks to Sombra’s attention.

With each stroke, Widow’s hips were flush with his for a brief moment, skin cold even in the swirling heat of their fucking. She pushed, and one glorious movement found Reaper’s sweet spot, activating the appropriate response. He hollered with pure pleasure, palms twisting against the bar, the night’s activities now very, _very_ worth it. Widowmaker knew she had done something right, and now each movement was hitting its mark with precision.

“There’s a joke here to be made about a sniper’s accuracy,” Reaper laughed feebly, but it was all he could manage now that Widow was plowing him so thoroughly. The friction of their bodies made her growl, and she bit into his shoulder to stifle a moan.

The third member of their team watched the both of them, gazing up at the scene above her with an unmistakable hunger. Reaper noticed her dilated pupils, and smirked. Then he tossed his head back and gave his sluttiest moan, thrusting into her hand with vigor. It had the intended effect. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her bite her lip.

“Alright, I’ve watched the fun long enough,” she demanded. She let go of him, and brought herself to her knees. “I’ll give you something else to grab on to.”

With that she stripped. Widowmaker was just tall enough to peek over Reaper’s shoulder and watch the show, Sombra already peeling off her tank top. It was too fast to be erotic, but damn if she didn’t look good doing it. Her clothes were discarded with such nonchalance it came right back around to being hot as hell.

She slipped out of her underwear in one motion, and kneeled in front of the joined couple with a shit-eating grin. Then she was sitting, scooting forward back underneath Reaper. “Get over here,” she told him, and reached up to tug at his wrist. He got the picture, letting go of the bar one hand at a time and falling forward on top of her.

Widow made a noise of surprise at the sudden change in position, but it only took a moment to find her rhythm again. Reaper could hear her exertion in every breath, the pace she was keeping impressive even for her.

Now that he was right where she wanted him, Sombra guided his hand to her breast, where he gave one firm squeeze. She squirmed under him, pressing her sex against his erect cock.

“Is that all you got?” she accused. “C’mon, Amélie is giving you the fuck of a lifetime and all you can manage is a handshake?”

Reaper grabbed her. Hard. One arm supported him while he took Widow’s thrusts, and the other dug into Sombra’s skin until his fingernails left marks.

“Mmmmm,” Sombra moaned, arching her back off the mattress. “That’s better.”

Sometimes when they fucked, Sombra would tell him to leave his gloves on just so he could sink his claws into her flesh. Now, he compensated for the lack of scaring by biting at the dark circle of her nipple until she squealed. Widow’s fingers dug in to own hips, and he knew they’d all be marked by morning.

Sombra slid against him, coating his dick in her juices and making him growl with need. But when he tried to push inside her, she shifted just out of reach. He moved again, but she tilted her hips until he was brushing uselessly over her stomach.

“Sombra,” he snarled, despite knowing she was doing this to get a rise out of him, “don’t you _dare_ blue ball me.”

She just grinned and rubbed her clit against his length.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to bite you,” he glared, wanting release as the pressure built in his lower stomach.

“That’s not a very convincing argument, _cariño_ ,” she chuckled, continuing to get off on him.

He hissed, black smoke pushing itself out of his lungs and across her chest. He put his forearms on each side of her head, shoving his mouth against her neck. “Fine. In that case, I will absolutely _not_ bite you _unless_ you let me fuck you.”

“See, now there’s something I could consider,” she said, and he could hear the mischief in her voice.

“ _Mon oisillon,_ calm down,” Widowmaker called simply. “You’re getting all smoky. Besides, she’ll finish you off eventually.”

On cue, Sombra lifted her hips off the bed so Reaper could get some real friction from her. Then she wrapped her legs around him, pushing her full weight into him.

“Aiegah!” Widow cried out immediately. “ _Merde_ , why are your feet so _cold??_ ”

Sombra shrugged, shoulder knocking gently against Reaper’s head. “Dunno. Probably the toe-shoes.”

“Well whatever it is, they’re freezing. And this is coming from a woman whose heart rate is eighty percent that of a normal human being.”

Sombra tilted her head back and laughed joyously. Reaper nibbled her throat, turning her laughs in to moans of pleasure. He felt Widowmaker lean down across him, still inside but pressing a flurry of kisses along his exposed back. That was fine. He could hold all three of their weights no problem.

The only thing on his mind now was _finishing this_.

He thrust against Sombra’s clit, keeping in time Widowmaker. The rhythm was perfect, the nerves inside him treated to a pounding while his dick reveled in the pushback Sombra gave him. He lifted his head enough to see Sombra lift up an arm, grasping something behind him that could only be the back Widow’s head. Both of them, bodies pulsating, gasping so loud he felt like he was drowning in it—he couldn’t picture much better than this.

Sombra came first like always, maybe because she had the least pride. She shuddered beneath him, nipping at his earlobe and pulling Widow’s hair. Then she rode it, managing a last few heaves before going still. She had the decency of keeping her spine straight, giving him the leverage he needed to reach is own orgasm.

It pitched him, sending the smoke that hovered near the surface of his body swirling. Deep in him, the dildo was still hitting his prostate, but he couldn’t focus on it over the shakes that rocked through his being. His head dropped against Sombra’s collarbone—a place where he’d inflicted a dark hickey at some point in the night.

Finally, Widow joined them, collapsing fully against Reaper’s back and abandoning all illusion of supporting herself. Her hands lazily wound their way in-between his and Sombra’s bodies, trailing fingernails against sweated skin.

He listened to them both breathing, and sighed when Sombra unlocked her ankles from his back. He might have wanted to stay like that for a while, what with that blessed silence the three of them so rarely managed to keep. But the dildo had become uncomfortable inside him, his muscles now tight from his orgasm.

“’M gunna need you to get off me Amélie,” he called softly to the sleepy assassin. She hummed, pressing one last kiss to his shoulder blade, and got back on to her knees. From there, she shuffled backwards until the strapon was out of him. Mercifully, he rolled to his side, finally able to relax completely. “Thanks babe.”

Sombra propped herself on her elbows, not exactly chipper but still more awake than either of her teammates. She gazed at the both of them, eyes lingering over spent bodies until they stopped on Reaper’s exposed tummy. She snuck a still-cold foot against it.

Reaper yelped.

“Leave him be Sombra,” Widow chided. “He did good tonight.”

“I do good every night,” Reaper muttered in protest.

“Of course you do _mon oisillon,”_ she corrected, leaning over kiss him on the cheek. When she died, she spied Sombra trying to stick another foot on him, and retaliated immediately.

She pinned Sombra, who began to laugh even as Widow reached over and grabbed the wipes in the nightstand. The giggle-fit only increased as Widow aggressively cleaned the spunk still clinging to her stomach.

“Ah! Alright, alright! I’ll stop it,” she promised as Widow fussed over her. She stifled her giggles, and let the other woman wipe her up. When she was done, Widow kissed the bruise that Reaper’s mouth had made.

“Good. Now you’re going to help me out of this stupid thing.”

Reaper watched them, pulling a pillow under his head. The multitude of buckles was too much for Widow, who gave up in a huff and let Sombra do the rest. Fine hands slowly freed her, and it fell away with a soft _thunk_. When they were done, they turned their attention to him. He didn’t need much cleaning, since there was only a bit of lube clinging to his cheeks. Widow did it easily enough, and after that she was free to lie down against his back.

“What do we do with that?” she asked idly, gesturing to the harness now abandoned on the bedside table. “Do we put it in the wash?”

“Put fine leatherwork through the wash?” Sombra gasped. “Are you **insane** _amiga_?”

“Fine, fine, forget I asked.” With that, she tucked her nose against Reaper’s neck and began to drift.

“You just let me handle all the sex toys from now on,” Sombra continued.

She took their silence as agreement, and dragged another pillow for herself. Reaper raised his arm just a little bit, enough of an invitation for Sombra to squirm against his chest.

“I’ve got loads of ideas,” she insisted. Still no answer. She continued to chat quietly about all the fun things they could do now that they were getting more adventurous, and did so longer after Widowmaker and Reaper were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> widow’s pet name for reaper is oisillon because of his whole owl things. widow is very kissy kissy in this and I don’t mind in the slightest.


End file.
